


the waiting time

by CorvidFeathers



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Vague Allusions to Addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 10:31:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13409373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvidFeathers/pseuds/CorvidFeathers
Summary: The only thing worse than sitting around waiting for Caleb to wake up is the vague, gnawing fear that maybe he won't.





	the waiting time

**Author's Note:**

> 'I feel like it's really too early in the campaign for me to write fic,' I say, as I write this.  
> I tried to keep references to all the things we don't know about as vague as possible.

Nott awoke on floor, in a pool of light.  She blinked groggily, staring up at the noonday sun shining through the thin, slatted windows over the rickety bed.

 

Her first thought was _that bastard kicked me out of the bed_ , but before she could wake enough to work up a proper temper, the events of the previous day came crashing back into her skull.  

 

The last thing she could remember, after dragging Caleb back to the inn, was sitting on the floor fiddling with her flask and listened to the ugly, labored rasp of her companion’s breath, her ears pricked, as afraid as if the entire town was after her on a goblin hunt, and not willing to admit quite why.

 

The same nameless fear rushed over her again.  She sat up, heedless of the way her head spun, and jumped up to peer into the bed, before her fear could get the best of her.

 

Caleb was still alive.  He still looked a few shades too pale and gray for a human, and his breathing rasped in a way that made Nott’s ears itch, but at least he was still breathing.  The bruises on his face were beginning to turn from deep purple to a mottled gray-blue-green, and Nott had to restrain herself from poking them out of curiosity.

 

She jumped up onto the bed.  “Caleb?” she said, swinging her legs off the edge.

 

Her companion didn’t stir.  He didn’t even twitch.  She worried away at her lip, staring at him.  That wasn’t normal- nor was him sleeping so late.  But yesterday had been… tricky.

 

“Caleb?” she said again.  He shifted a little, murmuring something in his sleep, but didn’t wake.

 

Should she… get some sort of doctor?  The thought made her cringe; a person like that would be twice as likely to see through her disguise.  No, she couldn’t.  Caleb would be fine.  He looked better.  He would be fine.  Right?

 

This really was beyond Nott’s experience.  It wasn’t like they had an established protocol for what in the hells she should do if he was incapacitated.  Or if he up and died on her.

 

Partially to chase the thought away, and partially to chase away the hunger gnawing at her, she jumped off the bed and rummaged through her pack.  Finding nothing but crumbs, she rummaged through Caleb’s until she found half a loaf of bread.  She gnawed on its hard crust and stared out the slatted windows, amusing herself watching people come and go along the street outside.

 

But then the bread was gone, and there was nothing else for her hands to do.  She settled down at the foot of the bed, and decided if Caleb was going to sleep, she might as well too- she shouldn’t venture out without him.  She knew what sort of trouble that brought.  Not that the thought normally was much of a deterrent, but she couldn’t count on Caleb to have her back now- and if she got caught in some mischief, what would become of him?

 

She curled up, and closed her eyes.

 

The itch came over her slowly.  The distant murmur of voices crept into her head, stealing any hope she had of falling back asleep.  The thump and rattled of boots up and down the inn stairs rattled around her head; she felt as if each footfall was directly beside her ear.  Worse, was the whisper of cloth againt cloth and the distinct clink of coinpurses as the inn’s other patrons passed their door.  

 

Even the soft rasp of Caleb’s breath, which until then had been almost a comfort- in the fact it meant he wasn’t dead- began to scrape away at her ears, until she would have given anything for the noise to stop.  She hung out of the bed for a moment, fumbling for the flask propped against the bedpost.  When it was in hand, she took a swallow and buried her head in the covers at the foot of the bed, trying to will herself back to sleep.

 

It didn’t work.  Each moment just compounded the impulse crawling up her spine and into her fingers.  She sat up again, and took another swallow from her flask- it was getting alarmingly light, and she vaguely regretted drinking so much the night before- and then scooted her way back to the top of the bed.

 

She stared down at Caleb.  He still looked exhausted; the deep hollows under his eyes were almost the same color as his bruises.  Maybe she should let him sleep.

 

That thought extended her self control maybe a moment longer, before she was shaking Caleb’s shoulder.

 

“Caleb.  Caleb!  Wake up.  Wake up!” she said, her voice growing more pitched and panicked as her friend showed no sign of stirring.  “Caleb!”  She shook his as hard as her small frame would allow, but his eyelids didn’t even flutter.

 

Cold fear crawled into her chest, compounding the itching in her fingers.  She pressed her head to his chest for a moment, just to make sure his heart was still thumping away in there, and then looked back up at his face.“Caleb, if you don’t wake up I’m going to do something really fucking stupid, and then you’re going to wake up, and you’re going to be angry with me, and…”  

 

She gritted her teeth.  The thought of pricking him with her dagger, just a little, crossed her mind but she… did not want to actually hurt him.  Especially not after the day before.

 

It was useless.  He wasn’t going to wake up now.  She was just going to have to deal with herself until he did.

 

Her eyes stole to the doorway, and the footsteps passing by.  Her mouth was dry, her coinpurse empty, and her flask only half-full.  At least she could make a bit of coin, maybe, before Caleb woke.  The clink and clatter was calling to her, and she couldn’t just sit around all day and worry.  That wasn’t a good use of her time.  

 

She slipped off the bed, and reached for her cloak and mask.  Once they were safely affixed, she threw one last reluctant glance at her companion before easing the door open and slipping into the hall.

**Author's Note:**

> come check out my tumblr @corvidfeathers and yell about the new campaign with me


End file.
